Love or Duty
by MysticIce24
Summary: It's 1857 England.  Isabella Swan is now a debutante and expected to marry as benefiting her station in life.  What's she to do, though, when what's expected of her isn't what she desires out of life?  Will love or duty win? AU/AH


As required, though I'm sure everyone knows, I'm not SM. I own only the story idea and that's it.

This was an idea that's been demanding I write. I don't know how often it will be updated. I'm tossing around finding someone to write the guys point of view opposite Bella. This WILL NOT be a Edward/Bella story. I want to do something different. I'm thinking Bella/Emmett, but Bella/Carlisle appeals to me as well.

Thoughts on whether it should be Emmett or Carlisle? If I have someone write Emmett or Carlisle's POV, would anyone be interested?

* * *

I stood at my bedroom window, staring unseeingly out of it, paying no attention to the gardens below. To the shrubs dotted among the roses, morning glories, hyacinths, and other flowers blooming along the walkways. I ignored, too, the pond shimmering in the far corner, two benches nearby for people to sit on and admire the fish within. The trees surrendering vine covered archways that opened into alcoves for wandering lovers. Even the gazebo in the middle of the garden were overlooked.

I stared across the grounds thinking about the night ahead and wondering if it would become one of the most important nights of my life or not. Did I even care? In truth, I couldn't deny that I had been looking forward to this day for years. Now that it was here…

When I'd been a little girl, the night had been about beautiful gowns and shinning jewels; the chance to wear a tiara and play princess. Over the years that belief changed. I learned what tonight really meant and the significance of the night. Now, what tonight would achieve and what I desired were two very different things. And what I desired was unheard of.

Sighing, I wrapped my arms around my waist. I wanted love. To be loved and love in return. That was a luxury to be denied me, however. To hope for it was foolish. My lot didn't allow for love. Wait, not true. It allowed for love, but did not encourage it. Love was a rare gift found among the _ton._ You found it or you didn't and more often than not, you didn't.

"M'lady?" the voice of my ladies maid, Angela, interrupted my thoughts.

I didn't turn from the window as I answered. "Aye?"

"'Tis time to dress," Angela said and in the reflection in the window, I saw her standing near my open bedroom door. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, I turned from the window walking to the middle of my room and standing still.

Angela moved over to me after shutting the door, moving about to remove the day gown I was wearing and my undergarments until I stood clad only in my pantalets and chemise, though they were removed as well. As she worked, I stared absently at the wall, letting my thoughts drift once more. My dressing routine hadn't varied in years and I know it wouldn't today, allowing me the chance to continue my thoughts as Angela wiped my body down with a wet cloth.

More than anything I wanted to marry for love. A love my parents didn't have, though they were fond of one another. I wanted true love. Not that I would ever get it.

Angela proceeded redressing me, causing me to change the tune of my thoughts as I remembered thinking once that there was an art to getting dressed. After all, there was a precise order in which one had to put on ones garments for the beautiful finish to be achieved.

First came white, silk stockings rolled up my legs and secured above my knee by ribbons, followed by pantalets, also white, tied at my waist. Over the pantalets went a white chemise, its neckline sweeping down low over my chest, baring my shoulders. Angela interrupted my thoughts about the art of dressing my wrapping my corset around my waist, securing the busk in front.

"Hold onto the bedpost and take a deep breath, please, M'lady," Angela requested and I moved over to my bed, grabbing onto one of the bedposts and taking a deep breath. Angela tightened the laces, pulling my corset shut and shrinking my waist to the desired width. Once she'd finished, I let the breathe I'd been holding out slowly and began taking shallow breaths, as my corset would allow nothing more.

Moving back towards my vanity, I stood still, knowing that over my corset would go a camisole before Angela assisted me into my crinoline, before covering it with two petticoats to smooth the ridges that would be created in my skirts by the crinoline otherwise. The finishing touch on this work of beauty – the _piece de resistance_ – was my gown.

A gown I had dreamed of wearing in my younger years. The gown that would transform me into a princess for the night. My debutante gown. It was fashioned out of pale blue silk accented with pink ribbon and lace. The skirt was in the current style and possessed a sheer overlay that was pulled up at certain points to create crescent shape drapes and secured in position by pink roses. The bodice swept down low over my shoulders and chest. Though, unlike some ladies whose necklines came nearly to the top of their corset, mine, as appropriate to my age, came a couple inches above my corset.

I looked at my reflection in my vanity mirror and had to admit to myself that I looked stunning. I'd definitely attract attention tonight. Angela set the matching slippers to the gown in front of me and I slipped them on, not wanting to see the girl reflected back at me.

"M'lady? Your hair," Angela's voice pulled me back to the task at hand and I walked to my vanity, situating myself on the stool in front of it. Angela proceeded to undo the plait in my hair before reaching for the brush and brushing out my hair. I let my mind wander, enjoying the soothing sensation of the brush going through my hair.

Debutante Ball. I would be presented to the ton tonight at mine. An eligible young woman available for marriage. That was all tonight was about: marrying me off. The invitations should read: My daughter is available. Who will be the highest bidder?

The only qualifications? Said bidder shall hold a title of Duke or above and shall possess wealth. It made me feel like a piece of property to be bought and sold at a man's whim. In truth, that was the case, though. Not that it was a new concept. After all, it had happened to my mother and her mother before her and her mother before her and so on and so forth throughout history. It was the way of the world I lived in.

A world I had been groomed for since my birth 17 years prior. There would be no escaping my fate. As the only daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Forks, Charles and Renee Swan, I was expected to not only marry, but marry well. Especially, considering the fact, that beyond my father there were no other living males of the Swan alive to inherit the title. Translation? If my Father passed away tomorrow, the title of The Duke of Forks would lie dormant until I bore a son.

What did that mean for me? It meant a life being groomed to be a wife, learning what was expected of me. The end result? I not only can run, but also manage, a large estate in addition to being able to read, write, speak French and Latin, though only sons typically learn Latin, play the pianoforte, embroider, dance, and ride properly. My only possible downfall that would ruin me for marriage? The fact that my Father raised me to be intelligent, a trait that men did not look for in their wives. My mother had repeatedly stressed that I must had my intelligence until after I was married or I would scare off potential suitors. I had been groomed like a true daughter of the peerage, ready to take my place among them.

"M'lady, I'm finished," Angela's commented, pulling me from my thoughts as I opened my eyes to look in the mirror. My hair had been twisted into a bun, or a section of it, as Angela had plaited another two sections on each side and wrapped the plaits around the bun. The rest of my hair she used the curling tongs on, leaving ringlets hanging around my face. Two white roses adorned my hair. All my childhood vision was missing was the tiara.

"Isabella," my Mother said, sailing into my room, dressed for the night in a ball gown of deep burgundy, the same style as mine, minus the over skirt and with a lower neckline. "Are you dressed?"

"Yes, Mother," I answered, standing up and taking the opera gloves Angela held out to me, putting them on. Renee stopped a few feet from me, looking me over from head to toe. "Would you like me to turn around, Mother?"

"If you would," Mother answered and I obliged her. She nodded her approval before walking the rest of the way towards me, holding out a hand with one of her pearl necklaces and its matching earrings. "I brought you some jewelry to wear."

"Thank you, Mother," I smiled up at her as Angela took the necklace from my Mother and secured it around my neck as I put the earrings on my ears. Angela handed me my fan and reticule, which I took, securing them around one wrist, before following my Mother from the room and down to the ballroom.

"You both look beautiful," my Father complemented my Mother and me as we entered.

"Thank you, Father," I responded, going over to him and kissing his cheek. I had been blessed with loving parents, when I knew many of my peers did not have the same luxury.

Mother examined the ballroom, nodding her approval before moving us into position at the door to greet our guests as they arrived.

Four hours later I extracted myself from my current dance partner, making my way across the ballroom and out onto the balcony off it. I placed my hands on the balustrade and took a deep breath, closing my eyes and turning my face to the sky. A slight breeze blew, cooling my warm skin. I wanted to head into the garden to sit on one of the benches I knew were hidden in the alcoves. Given my current status as a debutante, however, that was not a wise decision. There would be the possibly of a scandal and that would ruin me before I'd even started my season.

"Isabella?" my Mother's voice sounded through the darkness.

"Yes, Mother?" I responded, turning to face her.

"Whyever are you out here?" she queried, silhouetted in the doorway.

I walked over to her, standing next to her and looking over the _ton _dancing in the ballroom. "I was feeling rather flushed and came out for some air."

I scanned the crowd, knowing that out there was most likely the man I would marry and be chained to for the rest of my life.

Mother nodded, looking pleased with the turnout for the night. "I'd prefer you didn't come out alone, but you did stay visible. No harm done."

"I haven't had an opportunity to dance with Father. Do you know where he is?" I inquired, looking around for him. I didn't hear Mother's answer, my gazed landing at that moment on the most handsome man I'd seen tonight.


End file.
